For 11.5 years, I have walked through the doors, Big and gray, But they fill me with joy. For 11.5 years, I longed for the stench, Of mold and chalk, Mixed with sweet, Sweet success. For as long as I remember, The stale air, The bloody palms, Was what i called home. Its the lush carpet that cushions my falls, And the, Blood, sweat, and tears that fall down every wall. The earsplitting squeal of the little level fours, that look up to you for guidance. And the rough leather of the beam, That filled me with fear. That rough leather, It reminds me of home. A home like no other, full of blood, sweat, and tears. _______________________________________ For the rest of this ode, click here
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Ode to Diversity The world around us is covered. Covered with an assortment of things. People and places and feelings and thoughts. Each person is different, like crayons in a box, all different colors and shades and hues. Each a different weight, Each a different height, Each a different person, Each with a different heart. The places create us, our customs and traits, How we live How we eat, What we drive, to whom we greet. To a person feelings belongs, coming and leaving as the days go on. Our thoughts fly in, and leave oh so quick, This is how we see what sticks. When all of this comes together, it makes a person, just one simple, lovely, unique, person. This makes our identity, Our crayon color, the people we live by, and the people we know. This makes the whole world, every little detail, and last but not least, These make the world go round. Without this diversity, without the different colors, living all the same, well that would get boring! So the diversity we have, that we see and we feel, That what makes, our world a home. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
June 2014
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